


Kyrie Eleison

by Dreadful Weather Today (TearoomSaloon)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Death, F/M, Hurt, I'm gonna go cry now, no comfort, unless you take comfort in HAVING YOUR HEART RIPPED OUT, weird take on the confrontation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/Dreadful%20Weather%20Today
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows how God feels now, when he rips what is most beautiful from the Earth. He knows the pain of taking what is yours, what you made, and laying it to rest forever in death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kyrie Eleison

**Author's Note:**

> This is specifically meant to make Jade upset as punishment for ripping my heart out and stomping on it.  
> I hope it upsets the rest of you, or I didn't write it well enough.

Oh.

Oh, oh,  _oh._

There she is. Thine is the fury, O mighty God who hath placed such an angel in the path of the Devil’s escape. There she is, all thunder and fear, her beauty heavenly and divine.

His blood is trickling down his shoulder, his side, soaking his shirt. His nose in bloody and his hair is wild, stained with his ichor to match his eyes. Muddy, ruddy, wine. Mulberry wine, a summer wine. Dark, but rich and light.

Oh, little lamb, why did you stray? He is supposed to save lambs from slaughter, not bring them. Not bring them to their deaths. He is a good shepherd, and he loves all of his flock, would protect all of his flock.

But she wandered off, his favorite little creature with pure snowy wool and big blue eyes. He loves her. Loves her, loves her, loves her, but he cannot save her. She is lost, and he cannot bear this loss.

He starts towards her on lion’s paws, his kitchen knives—his teeth—at his sides. His face must be dark now, because she pulls back as she draws out the gun, aiming fiercely at his heart.

Where his heart should be, if he truly has one.

He thought otherwise while he lay beside her. While he kissed her, touched her, held her so tightly. His heart rate quickened whenever he felt her pulse under his fingertips. He let his pent-up affection pour forth into her, around her, on her. She made him feel human.

She made him feel loved.

Love: that hazy emotion he kept groping for in the dark as a child. The love of a sister, a mother, a father, a wife. His marriage bed would be stained with crimsons and wines, he knew. He took one look at her broken face and he knew. She is discovering for herself, now, what he is. What he isn’t.

Her hands shake though she keeps the barrel trained to him. She’s not going to shoot him, she doesn’t have the darkness enough. He sees it written on her and it  _burns_. Her purity scalds him, reminds him of what he could have been. Instead here he stands, an angelic monster before his lover, covered in the blood of the innocent and the blood of the murderer.

He takes the gun from her easily, removing the magazine and kicking it across the floor. She’s so paralyzed before him that it cuts so slightly under his skin. This woman that trusted him, loved him— _loves_ him?—saw only the good in him, is afraid. So afraid. So  _helpless_  at her own demise. He brushes back a strand of her beautiful hair and she flinches.

"Shh, it’s all right now," he croons. "It’ll all be over soon."

"You want to kill me."

“ _Have_  to kill you. I will take no joy in your death. It’s a necessity.” He kisses her forehead and she lets him, knowing this was coming, accepting her death like a martyr.

The tears are coming down her face silently, thick and seemingly endless. “Will you do it quickly?”

"And as painlessly as I can, yes."

"Can I ask a question before you do?"

He takes hold of her face with both hands, his blades on the floor by his feet. He’s gentle, so gentle with this precious little lamb. “You may.”

"How much of it was fabricated? I mean…how much were you lying to me about?"

"I never once lied, except by omission. Everything I said…I meant." He laughs humorlessly, darkly amused by the irony of it all. "I came to love you, Alana Bloom, as best I could. You reflected all that was good in me, you were my greatest creation by accident. I never meant to influence you, and I feel you, in turn, have influenced me. And I will continue to love you until I join you in death."

She lets out a choked sob and he kisses her to muffle the sound. And she kisses him back, her body trembling and full to the brim with fear and confusion.

 _I will always love you_ , he whispers before he snaps her neck, pulling the life from her body in a quick, sharp motion. He lays her down gently on his floor, closing her eyes and folding her hands over her chest.

The world feels heavy on his shoulders as he slinks into the night, now forever on the run from his own demise. He runs. He runs so far into that starless night that he’s no longer sure if this whole world is a dream, and that he’s comfortable and warm in his bed, lying beside one of the few precious pieces in his life.

 _You are awake_ , says the dawn as it creeps across the sky. And as the sun rises, he cries. For the first time since his sister died, his tears are genuine and uncontrolled, hard and painful and choking. He is alone now, for the last ember of love in his charcoal heart has burned out with her last breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Kyrie eleison;  
> Christe eleison;  
> Kyrie eleison.


End file.
